Wish Upon A Star
by Hazed Dream
Summary: Breeanne Withers led the perfect life of a perfectly rich girl, all until the day she made a wish on a star. A wish that brought her together with one of the most famous Newsie's alive and the danger that followed.
1. Perfection

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Wish Upon A Star

"Suck in more, Breeanne. Hold your breath." A sharp intake of air followed by a pained cry sounded from Breeanne Withers lips as she struggled to fit her mothers standards.

"Your never going to get anywhere in life being this size with such a negative attitude." Her mother lightly scolded, pulling the blue strings that laced up her daughters flowing blue sundress.

"This size?" Breeanne huffed angrily, "You make it sound like I'm fat. Couldn't you just think before you spoke, mother?" Shaking her head she gazed down at her perfectly slender mid-drift, breathing in a shaky sigh, would she ever be what her mother wanted her to be? She felt like such a failure, always being told to stop eating the skin on the chicken, to stop munching on pieces of bread. Weight was a large portion of what her mother considered perfection. She needed to be perfect.

"Heavens me, Breeanne, watch your words. I would have imagined I brought you up with better manners and discipline then what you seem to be showing your father and I lately. My dear, you have no right putting words in my mouth, let alone telling me how to speak. Look at yourself." Mrs. Withers cried out in fury, Breanne listened silently as her mother turned quickly on one heel and trotted down the stairs. Her high-heeled boots making a soft sound on the wooden floor. Once out of earshot Breeanne uttered a few words that had anyone heard she would be simply punished for. But she wouldn't let anything bring her spirits down tonight, not even her mother's fiery words that burned holes in her pride, no not tonight. Because tonight was the night that Breeanne would finally be able to see the cabaret that the whole city of Manhattan seemed to be busy gossiping about lately. With a final gawk and a roll of her eyes in the mirror, Breeanne grabbed her matching blue hat and dashed down the stairs, dancing her way through the front hall she noticed that her parents were nowhere to be found.

"They're out in the carriage, ma'am. Waiting your arrival I suppose." Breeanne's butler opened the back door leading to the driveway and bowed at her service.

"Thank you, Charles." She muttered in her most proper English and trotted down the front steps to the car, catching a hurried glance at the stars in the cloudless summer night. Picking out the first star her eyes landed upon, she made a simple wish. A wish that seemed as though with her luck would never come true. It was a wish to leave this hell that her parents dubbed her life.

[A/N: never fear, the Newsies will be in the next chapter, heh .. so R&R pleasee :P ]


	2. Star Gazing

On the other side of Manhattan, less then a mile away from the Withers home, sat a poor Newsie in just barely rags. Resting on his back and gazing up at the stars, much like he did every night. He hummed lightly to himself, a song he had come to love over time. A song about freedom and finally being who he had wanted to be for so long and where he dreaming of staying forever.

"Ey, Jackie-Boy." The lanky boy who laid next to him one the rooftop nudged his buddy, "Jackie, lookie ovah dere." He nodded his head toward a dim light in the sky, "Fiost summah star, eh? Make a wish." 

Jack smiled mischievously, his brown eyes lighting up the way they always did when he had a good idea in mind. Taking a drag from a cigarette that dangled from his pale, parched lips he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, wishing for the first thing that came to mind. 

"Wishin' fer dat trip ta Santa Fe?" The boy next to him inquired softly, once he had opened his eyes again.

"Nope, not tanight Spot. Not tanight." 

"Well what den? Let a curious kid in on you'se secret, whaddya say?" Spot raised an eyebrow beneath his tattered News Boy hat.

"Naw, dat'll ruin it. Ya's know dat, Spot. Ya's know dat very well." Jack shook his head from side to side, laughing at the clueless Brooklyn leader.

"I duno how you'se do it Jackie-boy. But I jes can't manage ta keep a secret. Me wish was ta go visit Medda tanight at da cabaret, so whaddya say, Cowboy? How'se 'bout we go see our lovahly leadin' lady?"

"A'right Spot. A'right, how'se about we'se do." Jack stood up; brushing himself off from the soot that was left behind on the roof. 

"Sounds good ta me." Spot laughed, putting out his cigarette and standing up next to Jack, "I can't wait, Jackie-boy. I jes can't wait." 


	3. Bathroom Break

Breeanne stood restricted between her mother and her fathers sides as they calmly walked into Irving Hall as a family. The smiles on each of her parents faces brightened as they greeted just about everybody in the whole of Manhattan. Everybody except the two boys that lounged in the seats above the crowd, each with their chins resting on their arms and a dazed look printed on each of their faces. 

Gazing around cautiously as her mother shook hands with a family friend, Breeanne began to wander away from her parents, inch by inch. Eventually the body heat that once cramped her between her parents lessened and she knew she was free for a good portion of the night, until they noticed she was gone that is. She hastily made her way around a wall and pushed her back up against it, sighing and sliding down to the ground, placing her head in her hands. 

"I'm fat, I'm fat." She repeated to herself softly as bypassers stared at her awkwardly. She shook her head, ignoring the stares and dashed to the nearest bathroom. Jabbing a finger in her throat she began to heave up the remains of her dinner, turning the toilet water a murky brownish tint. Once her dinner had been relieved of her she stood up, wiping her face and walking from the stall, to meet eyes with a boy a little taller then her, she gasped.

"Ey dere pretty-face. What's a goil like ya doin' in da boys bathroom?" He laughed, nodding towards the sign on the wall that clearly read, "mens."

Breeanne blushed a deep crimson, "I was just, I just .. I got sick." She managed to sputter from her mouth, turning away from the boy and gazing into the mirror to check her flawless hair.

"Sorry ta hear dat." The boy followed close behind her, leaning himself on the wall with one leg up to balance him. Breeanne swiftly turned, walking towards the door once she noticed the boy's ragged attire.

"I must go find my parents, they must be worried sick about me." She huffed, wondering to herself why she even needed an explanation for this kid. It was clear that if she were ever caught in his presence, other then buying a newspaper from him, she would never be permitted to converse with him. She began to swing the door open in order to leave when his hand came down upon it. "I'm Spot. Who are you'se?" A smirk crawled to his lips.

"I'm Breeanne Withers. What kind of name is Spot?" A brisk tint of anger could be heard in her tone.

"It's da one me friends call me. You'se gotta problem wit' it?" Spot inquired, letting go of the door that held her back, "Go back to ya muddah, you'se of no use to me." Breeanne began to leave, rolling her eyes, but suddenly stopped in her actions.

"You're the answer to my wish." She whispered, Spot leaned closer.

"Whaddja say?"

"I said you're the answer to my wish. I wished tonight, I wished to leave my life." Breeanne spun around smiling brightly at him and sticking out his hand, "Let's start from scratch, I'm Breanne Withers."

"An' ya fuckin' crazy too." Spot shook his head, walking from the bathroom.

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[A/N: Crazy stuff, I really didn't realize how much this sounded like Titanic until my first review, but trust me, it's nothing like it .. well maybe it sounds like it. But read on, it's not a copy of Titanic, I swear. Well, enjoy and R&R]


	4. Hold Tight

A malevolent silence ornamented the atmosphere of the bathroom as Breeanne remained in the same location Spot had so brutally left her in. Her mouth hung wide in astonishment at the concept of his degrading words. How could a boy such as himself speak with so much impertinence to a woman of her capability? Did he comprehend who she was? Well she was soon to enlighten his sense of ignorance. 

She casually tramped out the door and into the now presumably less bustling corridor, searching left and right for any indication of Spot's whereabouts. A sudden lurch from her right accompanied by a chuckle brought her attention to a secluded backstage door that was just barely accessible. Without a second thought she found herself opening the door and walking into an adequately disordered room. A series of steps descended into an area brimming with commotion. A ventriloquist smiled brightly at her presence, waving a hand to usher her down the stairs. She hastily did as indicated and gazed around at the enclosure in which she stood. An open area overlooked the rear of the stage and much of the audience could be seen. Squinting her eyes Breeanne located her mother and father, but briskly refrained herself from revealing her whereabouts. If they hadn't realized she was absent from their presence, she wouldn't be the one to point it out. 

Breeanne sighed in disappointment, Spot was nowhere to be encountered and she was just consuming time, precious time until the moment she was caught wandering off by herself. With another heavy sigh she set forth to exit the backstage door, but not before movement from the nook of her eye grasped her attention. She swiftly swiveled her hips just in time to reach out and snatch the boy that was marching nearby, bringing him close to her face and gazing into his eyes maliciously. Her heart skipped a beat once she acquired the idea that the boy she clutched so close, was not Spot, but his friend. 

"So I see you'se met Jackie-Boy." Spot's amused voice chuckled thoughtlessly.

"Shut up, you good for nothing pig." Snarled Breeanne, releasing 'Jackie-Boy,' "Do you understand who I am? I am Breeanne Withers."

She observed Spot's comrade as he cautiously held out his hand to greet her, "I undahstand who'se ya are." He said, blushing, "you'se one of dah most finest goils on dis side of da city." He placed a kiss on the back of her hand, grinning up into her jade green eyes.

Spot powerfully intruded the connection made between the two, "Ha, you'se mean one of dah most fucked up?" And that's how it was and always would be. Spot would always violate Jack's relationships, for better or for worse, and this relationship was no different.


	5. Run From Me

Jack ignored Spot's senseless comment towards Breeanne & continued to ask her why she, herself could find her wandering around the theatre.

"I got away from my parents, for once. News boys aren't the only ones that are constantly on the run, you do understand that, don't you?" Breeanne snapped lightly.

"If I 'ad parents to run from, ya wouldn't be catchin' me doin' it. I'd treat 'em as if they were king and queen, I would." Jack dreamily nodded, thinking of the day when he may have a family himself.

"Well, that's nice, wouldn't you say Spot?" Breeanne lightly jabbed the air where Spot had been situated not minutes before, "Spot?"

"Where'd 'e go?" Jack gazed around quickly before gasping, "It's da Bulls. Dey're aftah Spot & meself." With that he grabbed Breeanne's wrist and tugged her from the theatre and into the dark Manhattan streets. Huffing with excitement and fear Breeanne tried desperately to keep up with her high heels and tight dress, yet she hastily fell behind. As she watched Jack run off into the distance, she was determined to see him again. Determined to make one of them hers & determined to finally be someone other then "Breeanne Withers, daughter to the richest family in Manhattan." 

It was her life and she was taking control. With one final gasp of air, she dashed to the one place that may have any information on the boys, and that place was the last place she should be seen. 

That place was a Manhattan bar.


End file.
